


Night Five

by Nebulad



Series: Witch Doctor [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Other, Tension, drunk prodding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: Julian cut them off with a sigh. “No, none of that, you don’t need to apologise. I shouldn’t have let myself get upset about old news.” He brushed his hand over his face, then smiled. “It’s funny, actually. That’s all he ever told me about you, but I hated you for it.”“Oh?”“Of course I did. You were his landlord and his apprentice and I knew enough to realise that he respected you— but you had no idea who I was. You didn’t even know I existed, but in those two facts… well, for Asra that’s practically gushing.” He gave them a quick look, probably hoping they wouldn’t notice but… they did. “I think I get what all the fuss was about now, anyway.”





	Night Five

The card game was still going on downstairs, and no doubt Barnacle Bernadine was extracting a terrible price from her opponent like she did every night; if Jhend wasn’t so comfortable, they might’ve slipped downstairs to watch. Then again, the game was more fun when Julian was there as both players constantly tried to beg wild cards from him. Somehow the act of cheating became a luck strategy when he was involved.

The only thing was that Julian was laying beside them, staring up at the ceiling just like they were, and in no fit state to rub elbows with the denizens of the Rowdy Raven. They both had their own bottles at this point and had disappeared up into the room he was tentatively staying in— tentative as they weren’t sure if he was really staying there, or if he was pretending to because he didn’t trust them— to just… enjoy the silence. Or wallow in it.

“How’s the palace?” he asked finally, their night having progressed to the point where he was asking strange, prodding questions without any particular shame.

“Bright. Sparkly. Portia keeps me company.” They said it on purpose and got the reaction they wanted; an entire, full body wince. “Not like that,” they said with a wry smile, and he turned red.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Were you thinking it?”

“ _No._ It’s… good that she has friends.” He lifted the arm with the bottle in it, tipping it back into his mouth recklessly enough for them to be concerned about the choking hazard.

“Lots of them, by the sounds of it.” Something about their mutually weird state of half undress and the way they were rocketing towards a respectable buzz made the whole room feel… vulnerable. “What do you do all day?” they asked.

“What?”

“Well you know. Portia tends to Nadia, Nadia runs the city, I read tarot and try to keep my head above water… you do what, exactly?” It seemed he wasn’t particularly concerned with his face being seen, so they mentally crossed _hide_ off the list of possibilities. “Besides breaking and entering, of course,” they amended.

“The offer to search me stands.” He was leering at them again.

“If you have anything hidden in _those_ clothes, you deserve to keep it.” Not a lot of _pockets_ , or reasonable places for secret pockets. It was entirely possible for him to steal cards, but the only deck that really mattered was Asra’s and they had it. Correspondence maybe, but… well, if Asra’s shit was being pilfered then that was just the way it was. He should’ve picked a better guard dog than them.

“What do _you_ think I do?” He turned his head, looking at them from the pillow.

“If I had a reasonable guess, would I have asked?”

“Possibly. You _are_ aware of who I am, what I mean to the Countess— why should I tell you how I spend my daylight hours?” He was grinning, though, so they couldn’t tell if he was being coy; all in all, probably his intention. “Come now, let’s not dwell on me. I know much less about you.”

“Do you?” That had actually been bothering them for a while, and the fact that he’d stumbled upon something else they wanted to know seemed to throw him off. “Everyone else in the city seems to know me by reputation, but you broke into my house—”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“—expecting to find Asra.”

“And there you were, looking, may I add, _thoroughly_ put out considering you just had an audience with the Countess. Most shopkeepers wouldn’t dare to dream.” They rolled their eyes and took a drink, angling themself upwards to avoid choking. They felt very… watched, which wasn’t entirely unpleasant except that they weren’t sure if it was all right for them to look back at him to make sure.

“I wanted to enjoy my quiet home for once.” Asra, probably not intentionally, made them feel incredibly… lost, and this whole debacle was no exception. Everything that seemed to involve him even partially left them treading water, even something as simple as someone requesting his service while he was absent and then _leaving_ when they found out that only Jhend was there to help them. They’d expected the Countess of all people to behave fundamentally the same and then leave them to stew on mediocrity— somehow, though… there they were. “Save for the semi-frequent home invasions,” they added.

“I have a _key,”_ he said, exasperated, then stiffened as they shot up in bed.

The silence was deafening as he watched them, knowing that he’d said the wrong thing. “Who gave _you_ a key to _my_ house?”

He licked his lips nervously. “I can give it ba—”

“Julian,” they hissed, rolling so that they were on their knees and looming over him. “Why do you, a stranger to me as of mere _days_ ago, already have a key to my house?”

“... Asra gave it to me.”

“ _Why?”_ He grinned, averting his eyes.

“House calls.” The way he said it left no question about what he _meant,_ and Jhend fell back down onto the bed. “Do you want your key back?” he asked.

“Do _you_ want to keep it?”

“I always want to keep useful things, but I don’t _need_ it anymore.” He gestured over to his cloak across the room, indicating that the key was in there somewhere. They waved their hand, drinking again— deeply. He could keep it. It wasn’t _him_ that they were protesting, but more or less Asra having secret booty calls in their house without ever _saying so._

They placed the bottle on the floor, throwing their arm over their eyes. _“House calls._ How did I miss that?” they asked. “Why on earth did you never… let me know you existed?”

He looked borderline upset for a second, a brief spasm of hurt coming and going like a storm. It was promptly replaced with a sneer. “I was a little occupied; but come to think, Asra did very strictly schedule our appointments.”

“Please stop referring to the whole thing like it was a physical.”

“Technically it was.”

“ _Julian.”_ They snorted, despite themself, and he rolled over on his side to grin at them like a hyena.

“You do have a lovely home, though.”

“I’m sure your view of the ceiling was stellar.”

“Such little imagination,” he scolded. “I saw several fascinating angles of the room.”

“Does he keep it clean? I don’t go in there to check and he _says_ he does…”

“Liar,” he reported. He had such a lazy smile and it was making them feel uncomfortably warm. He definitely noticed, but continued to drink quietly. “Now if you’re satisfied… can I ask?” They nodded, laying on their back again and watching the ceiling rather than focusing on how hard he was looking at them. “You and Asra…”

“Careful now.”

“I’m only asking,” he said innocently, the bastard. They shut their eyes.

“You and every other goddamn person I meet. Asra lives in my house and makes a token effort to teach me magic; that’s all. I have not now, nor have I ever wanted anything else from him, besides maybe a higher quality of instruction.” They bit their tongue to avoid seeming shrill, but… _god._ Even Nadia teased them about it, and there was nothing to tease about! They hadn’t even thought about it!

“Noted,” he said in a low voice, and they turned to look at him impulsively, face turning red when they made eye contact. Something caught fire for a second, but burned out as quickly as it’d come. Flustered, Julian turned back to the ceiling. “Is there still something in your bottle?”

“A little.”

“Be a dear and hand it over.” They held it out and as soon as he reached for it, jerked it back. They still remembered him playing keep away with the brain picture when they’d first… met him? Not entirely accurate and yet somehow more correct than implying the shadow who snuck into their home that night had been entirely representative of him as a person. “Don’t tease,” he scolded, reaching out again.

They pulled it back further. “I can tease better than this,” they offered, tipsy enough to not be embarrassed. It was a relief, because this way they got to enjoy the hard red he turned, even as he smiled. He rolled to hang overtop of them, easily outclassing them in arm’s length, and snatched the bottle.

“I _am_ bigger than you,” he reminded them, sitting back on his ankles and tilting the bottle back. They stared, waiting as they harmlessly enjoyed the unguarded way he leaned back. Nothing came out of the bottle. He shook it a little and the sloshing of drink was audible from within. “Are you…” He looked over at them.

“I _am_ a witch,” they said wryly, but dropped the spell and let him drain what was left. He laid back again, closer than he’d been before. Their arms were touching. It was… very thrilling, so they tried to be normal about it.

“I have another question,” he said, his hands folded neatly on his stomach. He still wore his gloves. What an oddball.

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you here?” He looked over, and they tried not to linger on studying his nose. They liked his nose; and the rest of his face, of course, but the nose couldn’t stare back at them.

“What sort of question is that?” They’d even paid for drinks this time.

“The sort that are at least a token effort to keep me a free man. The first time you came here was an accident, you told me that much. The second time was curiosity, but then you came back a third time, and a fourth, and now here you are. Does Nadia know?” He rolled on his side, just… looking at them. They were very close. They hoped they weren’t making a strange face,

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t asked me anything about it; Portia knows I sneak out, but I don’t know if she cares where I go.” They had the strangest urge to reach out and touch him, which they attributed to drink and proximity and a stupid, ill-advised crush on someone who might’ve been a killer.

“That’s good news, but it doesn’t answer all of my questions.”

They stared him down enough that he actually seemed a little embarrassed, then clicked their tongue. “It’s hard to sleep at the palace. I’m putting off trying,” they said finally.

They only just noticed how low their candle had burnt when Julian smiled, because the dim lighting seemed to suddenly suit him very well. “I have a cure for that, you know,” he said, his voice so perfectly quiet.

“Do I want to let the plague doctor take a look at my insomnia?”

“It’s a good cure.” He leaned over, pretending to examine their head while they snickered. When he leaned down, he let his cheek brush theirs. They were still laughing a little, but it turned… breathier. He must’ve been just drunk enough to be braver than them. “Chamomile,” he whispered.

Wait. “The tea?”

“Of course the tea.” He pulled and grinned.

“Asra was right. You _are_ a hack,” they teased. He looked _incredibly_ offended.

“He did _not_ say that about me.”

“He did.” He rolled on his back, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles, shutting his eyes with a scowl. “I’m sure he had some choice words to say about me, too,” they offered, suddenly worried that they’d upset him. They still didn’t know how the whole… Asra and Julian thing had played out. Asra accused him of lying to get what he wanted, while Julian accused Asra of being dangerous.

“He barely said a word about you; I’m sure _you_ of all people know what he’s like with secrets. Everything is on a strictly need to know basis, and the only thing I needed to know about you was to not get caught. You know what he said?” He sounded angry, so they shook their head mutely. “He said you were whip smart and ferocious, and to avoid you. That’s it.” The wrath cooled abruptly as he seemed to realise which choir he was preaching to.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

He cut then off with a sigh. “No, none of that, you don’t need to apologise. I shouldn’t have let myself get upset about old news.” He brushed his hand over his face, then smiled. “It’s funny, actually. That’s all he ever told me about you, but I hated you for it.”

“Oh?”

“Of course I did. You were his landlord and his apprentice and I knew enough to realise that he respected you— but you had no idea who I was. You didn’t even know I existed, but in those two facts… well, for Asra that’s practically gushing.” He gave them a quick look, probably hoping they wouldn’t notice but… they did. “I think I get what all the fuss was about now, anyway.”

“You think?” They smiled faintly and he averted his eyes before he could stop himself. It felt like a victory, until the sneer came back.

“He was right anyway. Ferocious to the bone, and I’ve got the scar on my head to prove it.” He even moved his hair to show them the spot where the bottle had broken the skin, still a little red.

“You broke into my house!”

“I had a _key.”_ He was laughing, though, and so were they. The chime of a distant bell that interrupted them, however, significantly dimmed the good mood. “You should be on your way,” he said quietly, his eyes drawn by the window. They grabbed their shawl and absently toed their boots. “Plenty of sleep to be had, yet, before the new day.”

“Theoretically.” They stalled, of course, but was eventually ready to go. “Be seeing you,” they offered, feeling a little awkward knowing that he _knew_ their visits weren’t random anymore. That was something to agonise about later, presumably as they tried to fall asleep that very night.

“My door is open,” he said, which… didn’t sound like what he _wanted_ to say, but was enough to let them know that their presence wasn’t some profound intrusion. It made them feel better as they stepped back out into the bar and made their way to the street below.

. . . . .

“You know, twice might’ve been a coincidence but I’m counting _five_ now,” Portia commented as Jhend stealthily slid back into the palace. They jolted, badly, but resisted the scream that bubbled up in their throat. “So spill— who is it?”

“Don’t worry about it.” It was more for her sake than theirs— plausible deniability, although Portia of all people would never leave it at that.

“Can I guess?” she asked, following Jhend as they tried to find their way to the kitchen.

“I can give you a hint?” they offered, and she nodded eagerly. “I need you to teach me how to make chamomile tea.”

Portia frowned. _“That’s_ your hint?”

“Doctor’s orders,” they replied, and that made her briefly stop in her tracks.

“Jhend—”

“Insomnia. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, so I’ve been dipping out to see a doctor without bothering the Countess about it.” Not the _whole_ truth, but it sounded better than _your brother is so pretty it hurts to look at him but by god, I will try anyway._ “And he said chamomile might help.”

“Hope he’s a good doctor,” she said with a resigned huff. Jhend snorted.

“I trust him as far as tea goes, anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com), and on it is [my commissions post](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com/post/162182264019/writing-commissions). In other news, the Play Store recommended Arcana to me during my first ever "please god I just need an app to waste time with" like, hour, and here I am. I was really mad the first time I played through because I didn't... know how to get the Julian route, only that I wanted it.
> 
> Anyway is this... correct? I hope? Idk, it's just here now.


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